by Evie Hunter
Jack cut another mouthful of toast and fed it to her.
‘You don’t know what you’re asking. You don’t know what I’m like.’
Abbie refused the last mouthful of food and he popped it into his own mouth instead. She was blinking away tears.
‘What if I wanted to find out?’ she said. ‘What if I wanted to get to know the real Jack Winter, the one you’re so scared to show me?’
It was so tempting, to bring her into his world. It was what he had wanted since that day in the cave. And yet, now that she was offering herself, he hesitated. Did she really understand what she was letting herself in for?
Abbie reached for his hand and placed it on her naked breast. Her nipple hardened instantly beneath his touch. ‘What if I said that I wanted to play by your rules?’
Maybe she did understand, but he had to be sure. ‘I’m a lot darker than you can possibly imagine. This is not a game, it’s part of who I am.’
She sat up and reached for him, winding her arms around his neck, threading her fingers though his dark hair. She nipped at his bottom lip and he groaned. He wasn’t immune to her. Pulling his head down to her, she kissed his mouth roughly until they were both breathless. ‘I want you. Show me how you want me.’
‘Lie down, Abbie,’ he said, and then went to her closet and riffled through it until he found what he was looking for. He returned to the bed with a handful of silk scarves.
‘Are you sure that you want this, Abbie? Because once we start, it will only finish when I say so.’
‘Yes, I’m sure.’
‘Good girl. I suggest you visit the bathroom now. You may be tied up for a while.’
Abbie fled.
The bathroom mirror confirmed her worst suspicions. Her hair was wild. Her mascara had melted and her lipstick had vanished. She had cuts on her knees and a bruise on her neck where he had nipped her. But she looked like a woman who had just had the most incredible lovemaking of her life.
She stared in disbelief at her reflection. That couldn’t be Abbie Marshall. She was naked in her bathroom, except for a pair of heels, and Jack Winter was in her bedroom, waiting to tie her up and do god-knew-what to her. A feeling of sick excitement invaded her stomach. She was going to do this. She would prove to Jack that she wasn’t vanilla. She swished some mouthwash around her mouth and spat it out.
She didn’t want to take too long. Jack was waiting for her.
The look in his eyes almost made her retreat back into the bathroom. It was so hungry, so filled with anticipation that she shivered. What had she let herself in for? But there was no going back. If she stopped now, she would never forgive herself.
He tied the first scarf around her eyes. It wasn’t pitch black, but it was disorientating enough to make her sway. She shivered, conscious of her nakedness and his closeness. She could hear his breathing, feel the brush of his shirt against her sensitized skin.
‘Easy there.’ Jack pulled her against his chest. He was still fully clothed and the feel of his denim-clad legs against her bare thigh raised goosebumps along her back. ‘Lie down, Abbie.’
She moved a little awkwardly, finding her balance was off now that her eyes were covered. She lay obediently on the linen comforter. Jack took each wrist in turn and looped the silk around it before fixing it to the wooden headboard. He inserted his fingers under the loop, checking her circulation. Abbie heard the rattle of crockery as he carried the tray back to the kitchen. Then there was silence.
It was hard to tell how long he was gone, but time dragged, increasing her nervousness. Finally the bedroom door opened.
‘Oh, Ms Marshall, you are a sight for sore eyes.’ Jack’s Irish accent made her nipples peak. ‘I’m going to taste every inch of you.’
She felt his warm breath on her ankle. He wasn’t joking. With infinite slowness Jack kissed his way along the inside of her calf, pausing to pay homage to the tender spot at the inside of her knee before kissing the inside of her thigh.
‘Oh god,’ she groaned.
‘Did I give you permission to speak?’
‘No, I …’ Abbie felt a sharp tap against her thigh. ‘No, Sir.’
‘Good girl. But now that you’ve disturbed my concentration, I’m going to have to start all over again.’
The mattress shifted as he moved to the end of the bed and began the same torture on her other ankle. Soft kisses, gently sucking and licking her skin, followed by the occasional sharp nip that made her whimper.
She felt his mouth on her inner thigh again and Abbie fought the urge to squirm. Her breathing became ragged. Every inch of her body tingled. She desperately wanted to come. ‘Please.’
‘Poor Abbie.’ The vibration of his voice against her skin almost sent her over the edge. ‘Are you wet for me?’
Rising frustration almost made her suggest that he go find out himself. But she knew instinctively that he would take that as a challenge. ‘Yes.’ The word came out of her parched throat. ‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Good.’
She felt the mattress move again and then Jack was kneeling beside her, pressing chips of ice against her lips. Abbie felt his hand caress her forehead tenderly. She heard the crunch of ice again and opened her mouth.
Instead of a chip against her lips, his ice-filled mouth fastened on her nipple. The cold grip hit her like a vice and she arched her back and screamed. His warm hand cupped her other breast, tweaking her nipple between his fingers. Abbie struggled against the sensory overload and received a sharp nip for her efforts. She felt the melting ice and water run between her breasts and Jack’s tongue lapping at every drop.
‘You have such sensitive breasts. I think I’ll have to buy you some nipple clamps. Would you like that, mmm? Imagine the sensation of blood rushing back to your nipples when I remove them.’
Abbie couldn’t help it. She groaned again. His mouth continued its torturous path along her abdomen, pausing to blow a puff of ice-cold air on her shaven mound. She arched her hips, wanting his mouth there.
‘Responsive little thing, aren’t you? Let’s see what else you like.’
Abbie tensed when she felt him getting off the bed. What was he going to do this time? More ice?
The feel of his warm hand between her legs almost lifted her off the bed. She arched against his touch, groaning with relief when she felt his finger slide into her. ‘Oh god, please. Please, Jack. Please, Sir’
She was almost incoherent now. He rewarded her with a slow pump of his finger. Just enough to madden her, but not enough to take her over the edge. ‘Bastard.’ The word escaped from between her lips and she heard a low laugh and the sting of a sharp slap against her thigh.
‘You have no idea, Abbie. I haven’t even begun.’
At the first brush of the feather against her skin, Abbie squirmed against her bonds. ‘No, don’t do that. Please, I’m really ticklish.’
Jack straddled her hips and his weight pressed her against the bed. ‘You really shouldn’t have told me that.’
Pleasure and pain. The gentle brush of the feather and the sharp pain of its quill as he used it to draw slow circles around her nipples, and lines on her breast and along her abdomen. Her nerve endings didn’t know how to respond, sending her brain confused messages so that she had no idea if she hated or loved it. Her cries of pain alternated with moans of pleasure. Her world closed down to Jack and his hands. She had no sense of time.
‘My sweet Abbie. I think you deserve a reward.’
She couldn’t reply. He had become her world, the light at the end of the tunnel. Every brush of pleasure or pain was within his control, she could do nothing but tremble and wait to see which he would give her. It was like floating.
A jolt of pleasure shot through her when she heard the rasp of a zipper and she squirmed, rubbing her damp thighs together. The bed creaked as it took his weight, and then they were skin to skin. The glorious muscular length of him stretched against her.
‘Jack.’ Her voice was hoarse from crying out
.
‘I’m here, baby.’
His mouth crushed hers without warning. There was no tenderness, only dark, inexorable need. She felt his hand in her hair, angling her head so that he could take her mouth as roughly as he pleased. Hot kisses rained down her neck and breasts, making her arch against him in need, but this time there was no teasing.
At the first pass of his tongue between her legs she cried out. He lapped at her as if he wanted to devour her, with hot, slow swirls of his tongue that never quite touched her aching clit.
‘Please, Jack. Please let me come.’ She didn’t care that she was begging. She only knew that she would die if he didn’t give her some release soon.
‘What do you want?’
‘Fuck me. Please, fuck me.’ She never thought she would say those words out loud, but she had no dignity left.
As if her words were a starting pistol, Jack moved. He moved up her body, kissing her with abandon and taking her mouth greedily.
Jack knelt between her thighs. Abbie couldn’t stop trembling. He slid into her in one slow thrust and she cried out. She dug her nails into the scarf. He eased out slowly and thrust hard again.
Her body rocked against his. God, that was good. His thrusts increased in momentum as control slipped away from him. There was nothing but the sound of flesh slapping against flesh and his harsh grunts. This was no tender lovemaking, but a fierce, rough taking.
Jack was marking her as his, and her body responded. Her skin tingled at his every touch and her blood raced. The intensity of the moment converged in one shattering surge of pleasure. Her inner muscles gripped his cock, her clit pulsed as if it were on fire, stars exploded behind her eyelids.
When she came round, she was lying in his arms, untied and with her eyes uncovered. Abbie felt his heart thudding against her cheek and his mouth against her hair.
‘You OK, Abbie?’ There was a hint of nervousness in his voice that she hadn’t been expecting. She had gotten close enough to catch a glimpse of the hidden Jack and she knew that he wasn’t referring to the sex.
She snuggled into his arms and pressed a kiss against his chest. ‘I’m fine. It was amazing.’
After a while she heard a soft snuffle. Jack Winter was asleep in her bed.
19
Something jerked her out of her sleep. She turned to find Jack was sitting up in the bed, shaking. She sat up and switched on the bedside lamp.
‘Didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.’
She touched his chest. His skin was cold and clammy. ‘Are you sick?’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing like that. It’s just a bad dream.’
She stroked his arm. Even in the dim light he was pale. Whatever he had been dreaming about had really scared him. ‘Are you sure? I can make you some –’
Jack brushed her concerns away. ‘I’m fine. I’ll just grab a glass of water.’
He kissed her on the forehead, turned off the lamp and left the bedroom. Abbie lay awake, listening to him move around the sitting room. She heard the sound of the refrigerator door opening and closing and then there was silence. She rolled over, but she couldn’t sleep without him.
To hell with sleeping. She grabbed her robe and padded out. The sound of Jack’s voice stopped her in her tracks and she paused just inside the bedroom door to listen to the one-sided conversation.
‘No, I’m fine. I just wanted to hear your voice … How can you say that? I do miss you, you know that.’
His words, the affectionate tone of his voice, made her stomach drop as if she were on a roller coaster, plummeting down the ramp. Jack had left her bed so that he could call another woman.
‘No, I’m in New York this time. Pre-pub for the movie. You know how it is. Same old, same old.’
Abbie heard his easy laugh. This Jack was tender, comfortable with whoever he was speaking to at 4am. Another nightbird? Or maybe someone in another country.
‘OK, put her on.’
There was a short pause and Jack paced the floor of the sitting room as he listened to the voice on the phone.
‘A snow globe? You want a snow globe?’
She heard the teasing lilt in Jack’s voice. The American accent was gone and he sounded much as he had done in the jungle when he was talking to Kevin. His guard was down. Jack sounded as if he were speaking to a child.
She didn’t know that Jack had a family. His bio was sketchy about his earlier years in Ireland. Maybe there was a family. Perhaps Jack had left someone behind when he had come to seek his fortune in Hollywood.
The publicity machine played up his wild, party-boy image. The unattainable bachelor who would never settle down. Maybe Jack already had settled, and that was why he couldn’t commit. Abbie wanted to drag herself away from the door but a sick sense of fascination made her wait, hungry for more torture.
‘I’ll buy you the prettiest snow globe in all of New York, I promise. The prettiest snow globe for the prettiest girl. Now, put your mum back on.’
His voice changed, no longer adult to child. ‘Ciara, I gotta go. It’s some godforsaken hour here and I have to fly to LA tomorrow, I mean today … Maybe, I don’t know.’ Jack’s tone became impatient. ‘I said I don’t know. Don’t push me on this.’
Jack flopped on to the couch, picked up a handful of feathers and let them drift between his fingers on to the floor. Abbie touched the swell of her breast. The marks he had made with the quill were still there, a series of faint red lines, one of which looked like the letter M.
Abbie tensed. Jack was speaking again. ‘I’ll think about it. OK? Look, I really have to go … I love you too, Ciara.’
Jack returned to the kitchen and Abbie heard the sound of the refrigerator door opening again. Turning on her heel, she fled back to bed.
Even before he woke up, Jack was aware of the unfamiliar warmth cuddled in at his side. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know it was Abbie. Her shape and smell were imprinted on his brain. What rattled him more than the instinctive recognition was the fact that he had slept with her in his arms, and it felt right.
Jack Winter didn’t do nights. He Dommed, he fucked, he had a good time and then he went home. He did not climb into bed, cuddle his sub all night long and fall asleep with her in his arms. But this was Abbie. No matter how hard he tried to keep aloof, she caught him at gut level.
He couldn’t believe he had slept again. Usually after that dream, he stayed awake all night. If he was in LA he’d go down to the beach and run outside for hours until he was too exhausted to stay awake – anything to exorcize the memories of that cell, with the reek of the primitive toilet and the added torture of his claustrophobia. The prospect of spending years of being locked up like that still haunted him and dragged him, shaking and sweating, from the deepest sleep.
He had planned to fuck Abbie again, just to relieve the frustration generated by his old terrors, and then go out running. He couldn’t believe he had fallen asleep.
Maybe I should keep her. He had no idea where the thought came from, but he dismissed it immediately. He didn’t do long term. He was very good at being a sessional Dom. He had subs in three cities he could call when he was in town. But as soon as the session was over, he was gone.
Abbie was unfinished business, that was all. Last night he had given her a tiny taste of life on the dark side, and she had loved it. He knew that she would want more, just as he knew that she would baulk if he ever allowed her to know the real him. At heart, she was a vanilla and feathers girl, and he was leather and steel.
She stirred in her sleep and rolled over, slipping one arm around his waist in an embrace that wasn’t as confining as he had expected. He could relax for a few minutes before he got up and showered.
His cell phone went off in the other room. He had left it there after talking to Ciara. Jack scrambled out of bed, hurrying to get to it before it woke Abbie. He had tired her out; she needed her rest. He was smiling when he answered it.
‘Jack, my boy, I’m back in LA.
Where are you?’ Zeke Bryan’s voice was almost as loud as his neckties.
‘I’m still in New York.’
‘Well, get that ass of yours home as soon as you can. I’ve got you an audition for The African Queen.’
Jack exhaled sharply. This was the role he’d been waiting for. ‘I’m on an LA flight in three hours’ time. When is the audition?’
‘First thing tomorrow morning. I’ve set it up with the casting company that they’ll see you first, so you’ll be in ahead of the horde. Did I do good, or what?’
‘What do you mean, “horde”?’ Jack asked. ‘How many are going for this role?’
Zeke scoffed. ‘Charlie Allnut? Every major actor and every wannabe is lining up to get this role. It’s a sure-fire Oscar nomination.’
‘I know. That’s why I want it. I can only do dumb-ass action-man roles for so long before they dry up. I need something that doesn’t depend on having eight-pack abs and a silicon-enhanced leading lady.’
‘Don’t knock it. Those roles pay the bills, both yours and mine. Just remember, your call is at eight tomorrow morning. Make sure you’re on time.’ His voice dropped. ‘And keep your nose clean.’
‘Don’t worry, I’m as pure as the driven snow,’ he said and ended the call.
A husky laugh sounded from the doorway. Abbie stood there, wearing a sheet and nothing else. ‘Pure? After what you did to me?’ She was heavy-eyed, with faint bruises on her skin and a bite mark on her neck, and she looked sweet and good enough to eat. He wanted to take her back to bed and mark her up some more.
‘Compared to what I usually do, oh yeah.’
Her eyes widened, with a combination of speculation, fear and interest.
But he didn’t have time. ‘I’m sorry, Abbie, I have to go.’
Her face shut down. She was trying hard not to look upset. ‘I don’t want to, but I have an audition in LA in the morning. I have to be there.’
‘That’s OK. I know you’re busy.’ She was busy looking down at where her fingers were pleating and unpleating a fold of cotton sheet.